


Broken Promise

by MissIodine



Series: Starbetween Stories [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Betrayal, Fascism tw, Gen, Obsidian Order, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIodine/pseuds/MissIodine
Summary: Following the attack on New Sarajevo and the death of her sister, Rakelen Ki'Dar is broken, a shell of her former self. However, the vulnerable, young Rakelen finds a new purpose in life, fueled with both vengeance and hurt.
Series: Starbetween Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857370
Kudos: 2





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece does not support nor condone fascism. This piece was created as a continuing backstory/lore for an OC and a homebrewed D&D campaign.

Screams everywhere. Bombs bursting. Scraps of debris littered across every broken path. That peaceful valley she called home with its once gently rolling slopes, yellow-green prairie grass, and a quiet, tucked away village, was turned into a hellish place far more terrible than she could have ever imagined. 

Those small starships screeched across the sky, raining down death. The destruction of the old town hall. Bodies on every corner. The bombed out, burning houses. The road leading up to her childhood home.

She passed the threshold of the door, in search. Natel…

She found her young sister lying in the center of the foyer. Sheet white, already dead, staring blankly forward, innocent.

Raklelen turned around to see the demonic, burning form of a Bajoran man standing in the doorway she just entered through. A jagged phaser pistol extended from his melted, sickening hand. His boiling blood dripped from his fractured, broken skin as he took one deliberate step after another towards her. He raised his hand to meet Rakelen’s forehead and smiled devilishly.

His distorted voice reverberated into a single sentence.

“Goodbye, Rakelen.”

The metallic barrel of his weapon erupted into a fiery red, engulfing Rakelen’s body.


	2. Tension

The images, the sounds, the horror. Constantly repeating itself in her mind. New Sarajevo. It had been months since the tragedy, yet the passage of time bore little on easing the immense pain, the aching gap in her heart.

Rakelen sat, curled up in the corner of her dark bedroom. Her bed no longer felt comfortable after the long depressing hours she had spent in it. A dim twilight sunset shined through the gray curtains over the single oval window. 

_ Natel…I miss you... _

“Rakelen? Rakelen are you up here?” Rakelen’s father called from the stairway.

Rakelen didn’t have the drive to make any sort of response whatsoever.

Her father knocked on her bedroom door a moment before he cautiously opened it. From Rakelen’s peripheral vision, she could perceive a sense of overwhelming worry from him.

“Rakelen,” he said, stepping closer and placing a caring hand onto her shoulder. “Rakelen are you all right? I’m here for you. Dad is here.”

‘Dad’ never felt quite right. Her father was never accustomed to calling himself that. He was always too distant, never present in her life, always far away on some distant planet serving for the greater good of Cardassia. Yet now, after so long apart, now he had a responsibility to finally be close to his daughter.  _ Surely, it had no relevance to the coming divorce he and Rakelen’s mother were slowly finalizing. _

Her father reached in for a hug, another uncharacteristic behavior. Rakelen felt his arms wrap around her. 

_ Some broken daughter she was, with an undisciplined Cardassian mind, requiring therapy of all things, taking antidepressants, needing anti-anxiety meds. Rakelen knew she was the ugly embarrassment of the family, except no one was willing to say it. _

“Supper is ready. Would you like to eat with us downstairs tonight? It’s whatever feels most natural for you, really. But I swear it, you’ll be happy to be in the company of your family.”

“I’ll be down soon,” Raklen slowly said, the words coming out one by one, after a long moment of silence.

Her father gently patted her head and left. A few minutes turned into ten, then twenty. But, for whatever reason, Rakelen eventually found it in herself to shamble downstairs. Her father and mother sat on opposite ends, in silence, their meals nearly finished. Her visiting aunt and uncle were making quiet conversation to one another. 

Their four heads almost instantaneously turned to Rakelen. Her father, with the utmost courtesy, pulled a chair out for her. Rakelen mindlessly placed herself into it and stared blankly at the plate in front of her--zabu stew. She picked up a fork and stabbed a green slice of meat marinated in a thin, white sauce. It tasted like nothing. Barely the texture even registered.

Even to the teenage Rakelen, the bitterness between her mother and father hung in the air like a sour aroma. At first, weeks after the attack on Sarajevo, when Mother finally revealed she had been having an affair with Yikom, Father was outraged. He yelled, Mother cried. They had deep-hitting fights that resonated through the new household here on Cardassia Prime. Through closed doors and thin walls, Rakelen had heard that she’d been staying at the late artist’s home; it’s why she wasn’t there when it happened--when Natel…

“Is your food warm enough, dear?” Rakelen’s mother called. “We can always heat it up in the replicator.”

Rakelen saw her father’s face immediately harden when Mother spoke.

“It’s fine.”

A couple of minutes had passed as no one talked. The tension was almost visibly evident.

“It’s been a long day for me,” her father abruptly declared, getting up from his seat. He left his plate to be dissolved in the replicator, without a second glance back to the table before he left the dining room. It was clear that despite any intentions he might have had, his temper was beginning to wear thin. 

In a poorly disguised, exasperated sigh, Mother vented a similar frustration at his wake. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, then began to clean the table around the remaining guests. 

Rakelen plucked away at the stew in front of her, making a few of the marinated pieces of meat ooze out a seasoned blue liquid. She wasn’t really hungry at all. The pain wrapped up inside her dulled out any sensations whatsoever. Her uncle and aunt leaned in closer to her, as she pushed the assorted contents of food around the plate.

“Hey, Rakelen. We just want you to know that we’re here for you. And if you ever need anything from us, that’s what we’re here for. Family is everything,” her aunt whispered. 

“Exactly, exactly,” her uncle chimed in. “And we want you to rise against the odds, like you have so far already. You survived the ordeal; you survived it because you’re strong--mentally, physically, emotionally. This here, the hard times you’re going through right now, are merely a healing process.”

The words themselves registered to Rakelen, but whatever they were hinting at escaped her.

“And...and what do I rise to do? What is there to do?”

“Well, the never-ending sacrifice we all pursue, to put aside ourselves in service of the State,” her uncle said. “To make our enemies pay for what they’ve done. After all, never let your enemies outlive you.”

_ The terrorist. The murderer. Okon Gale. His face was branded into Rakelen’s memory.  _

The faint thought of hurting him the way he had hurt her flashed into her mind once again. She gazed upon the kitchen knives on the table. She thought of driving one of those sharp blades into that man. She thought of mutilating him, making him unrecognizable. 

The thoughts themselves scared her. Rakelen’s eyes began to water as she collapsed into her aunt’s arms.

“I-I don’t want to cause pain. It’s just that...that…” Rakelen searched for the words. She did want to cause that man pain, but the very thought of committing that brutal act of violence repulsed her. 

She never wanted to become an rabid animal like Okon Gale.


	3. The Order

Rakelen pushed on the door to her father’s study.

“Father?” she called.

Her father looked up from the array of PADDs on his desk.

“Rakelen, my dear taspar! What can I do for you?”

She took a few steps in. 

“I was talking to Uncle Sorjak and Auntie Ela. They talked about service to the state. And I thought, you know, you’re an expert in serving Cardassia, and I wanted to know about how to serve Cardassia.”

Her father’s brow furrowed.

“As a gul in the Central Command, I suppose you could call me an expert. Although, Rakelen, what you’re wondering about is a noble cause, yet I always imagined you’d be more inclined to academics. You know, back when you were much smaller, you always had a pencil or PADD in your hand. I just--”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Father!” Rakelen shouted. “I just--we just--the Maquis are a threat that can’t be ignored anymore! I want to help get rid of them!”

At the sudden outburst, her father’s jaw hung open. 

“Rakelen, I understand you’re very upset right now--”

The study door slammed against the wall as Rakelen’s mother shoved it open.

“How long has this been going?!” she screamed at her husband, throwing a PADD at him and catching him in the shoulder. 

The tablet clattered onto the ground. Rakelen saw financial records highlighted in red. There were negative signs and zeros across so many lines of text.

“How dare you come in here like this, in front of Rakelen, our child, yelling and screaming. You can’t just barge in like this! Think of her!” her father yelled back after a moment of pronounced shock.

“You’ve cleared all the accounts, you siphoned money from me for years, you’ve put us in so much debt. Lek, how could you do this to us?” her mother said back without missing a beat. “I thought you loved me. But you just married me for my family’s money.”

“You’re one to talk! You were unfaithful to me! You slept with a fucking art teacher! You fucking come in here and start arguing in front of our child!”

“Maybe we’d still have all our children if you guls had done your jobs!”

“Maybe if you were home instead of staying at Yikom’s apartment, Natel would still be alive!”

The room turned icy silent at the last remark.

Rakelen couldn’t imagine ever looking at her parents the same way again. She turned and left the study and headed to the front door. She couldn’t even imagine herself staying in this house much longer. Without much thinking, she unlocked the double doors. She stepped out into the warm Cardassian evening and started walking. Walks usually calmed an uneasy Rakelen by taking her mind off the issues at hand.

The city was busy, people passing to and fro, not paying any attention to the lone teenager.

She’d been walking for nearly half an hour when she finally noticed she wasn’t even wearing any shoes. In fact, after a short self-inspection, she realized she wasn’t carrying a communicator either. Somehow, it didn’t seem to bother her as much as she thought it would.

Her feet began to hurt so she took a seat on a nearby bench in a deserted plaza. A lethargic sleepiness brought on by the depressive episode began to take hold of her as she closed her eyes. After an indiscernible period of time, Rakelen awoke from a hand shaking her shoulder.

As Rakelen slowly came to her senses, she saw a severe-looking woman gazing down upon her.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked.

“I’m...lost,” Rakelen lied.

“You’re loitering outside of property owned by the Obsidian Order.”

_ The Obsidian Order, the most competent, ruthless, and efficient organization known to the quadrant. _

Rakelen grew worried and her stomach turned into a mess of knots.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’ll be going now,” Rakelen stammered, getting ready to leave.

The woman caught her by the arm. She was obviously suspicious.

“What is your name?”

“Rakelen,” She looked up at the woman, and realized that a simple first name was woefully insufficient, “Rakelen Ki’Dar.”

“Rakelen Ki’Dar...are you related to Gul Ki’Dar of the Seventh Order?” 

Rakelen didn’t know what to say, wondering whether telling the truth would land her in any trouble.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s my father,” she said, after eventually reasoning that if the Order found out she lied about a trivial thing, it wouldn’t be good for her.

The woman smiled, breaking only a very thin layer of the sinister aura around her. On the other hand, the impenetrable mask of an uninvited smile inspired very little trust in Rakelen.

“I am Korinas. Miss Ki’Dar, why don’t you come with me so I can ask you some questions.”

Rakelen didn’t think she could say no, given that this woman could likely have her killed if she refused.

Korinas used a retinal scanner at the entrance to an outwardly unremarkable building. Rakelen followed her inside as requested. As they got past the nonreflective, tinted windows, the first room was a beautiful, expansive garden. So many trees, so many flowers, much green. Very few places on Cardassia ever looked like this. It was an interesting contrast to the rest of the decor. The flooring was a dull grey linoleum and the walls were patterned in interlocking squares of shades of brown and orange. 

Rakelen thought she could hear faint screams come from several doors along the hallway. She didn’t ask Korinas whether it was her imagination or not. The answer was probably quite unsettling either way.

The two turned down another hallway and Korinas opened the first door on the left. The room looked incredibly bare, save for a single table where two chairs were on opposite ends and a mirror on the opposite wall. Along with an antiseptic smell in the air, there was a distinct lack of personality associated with this interrogation chamber.

“Take a seat, Miss Ki’Dar.”

Rakelen did as ordered.

“Why were you all alone outside? Did your parents leave you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Oh, do tell, then.”

“I ran away.”

“Why did you run away, Miss Ki’Dar?”

Rakelen bit her lip. She ran from her parents because she couldn’t take the arguing, the blaming, the refusal to take any responsibility, the way they talked about Natel, and so many more reasons beneath that troubled surface. Korinas looked expectantly at her.

“My parents,” Rakelen started, not knowing how to explain it all. She knew that despite being nearly fifteen, children without parents were some of the lowest members of society. Surely, she couldn’t tell Korinas the full truth. She had to fabricate something plausible. The pent-up anger at her father was fresh in her mind. “...My father....”

“Yes? Your father? What has he done? Has he been abusive? Has he been disloyal to your mother? Is he a traitor to Cardassia?”

Traitor....yes, that certainly would be reason to run away and report him, if it were true.

“...My father is a traitor.”

The moment that lie left Rakelen’s mouth, she instantly regretted it.

Korinas’s eyes widened very slightly. “A traitor? How so?”

Knowing full well she had to keep up the lie, Rakelen searched through her mind for this supposed evidence. He’s a gul in the naval infantry, he wasn’t there when the colony was attacked initially, he didn’t push for Rakelen to join the military…

“He...he’s a sympathizer with the Maquis and the Federation,” Rakelen said, lowering her head and pinching her arm. She continued the invention with tales of overhearing him on his comm line talking to Starfleet contacts, giving them locations of targets, and using his position to obscure any suspicion that might have been placed on him.

They sat in silence for a moment as Korinas saved the information onto an optolythic data rod. 

When she was finished, she placed a hand onto Rakelen’s.

“Thank you, Miss Ki’Dar. You’ve done a very brave thing today by reporting on your father. It can’t have been easy to turn in one of your own family members, but you made the right choice. We’ll bring him and your relatives in for questioning. Until then, you’re to stay here in this building to ensure your safety as a valued informant. Come with me so I can show you to your temporary quarters.” 

The temporary accommodations lacked almost as much personality as the last room she’d been in, although it was slightly less barren. Korinas made it clear that Rakelen was not to leave the quarters except under direct supervision and escort. Over the course of the week, she was occasionally allowed to roam a few of the corridors. But above all, the botanical garden she had seen on the first day was the most fascinating place of all. It was just so surreal. There was so much variety. The colors and shapes of leaves and the vibrance of flowers just had no comparison to the arid deserts and sprawling cityscapes of Cardassia. It was almost like paradise, if such a thing truly existed. Rakelen thought it odd that this place existed inside an otherwise dull and mysterious place.

An older, stout Cardassian man with a wrinkled face and deeply set facial ridges had come by one afternoon to Rakelen’s room. Korinas and her subordinates made very little in the way of updates for Rakelen, however, it was clear that this meeting was no typical occurrence. When Rakelen tried to ask him any question whatsoever, he gave nothing in return. Rakelen followed him to a lift. He punched in a code and the chamber descended several levels. Rakelen figured this facility had an underground section, evident by the long ride.

When the door opened back up, Korinas was waiting with a smile on her face. She gestured to an open door, inviting Rakelen inside.

As she entered this final room, she gazed through a window that held a horrifying sight--her father. Beaten, bloodied, bruised, in obvious agony. He laid across what seemed to be a red-stained operating table. His ragged breathing was the only thing that signaled he was still alive. 

“Father!”

“He can’t hear you,” Korinas stated simply. She rapped her knuckles on the window pane. “Soundproof, one-way glass.”

“Telek Ki’Dar, do you confess to premeditated crimes against the State?” an interrogator asked Rakelen’s father.

“I...I told you! I haven’t committed any crime! I am innocent! I have always been loyal to Cardassia!”

“That isn’t what we’ve been told. Your nephew claims he saw you talking to known Dissidents on multiple occasions outside of your workplace. Your brother claims that you have been reclusive ever since the attack on your family’s colony. Why is that? Do you feel guilty after helping the Maquis coordinate the attack on your own people? Did you think that by killing one of your own daughters, your story would become more credible? Suffice it to say, every lie you tell further condemns you.”

“How dare you talk about Natel that way!” he cried, struggling against the rigid metal restraints. “I’m no traitor! I swear it in the name of Cardassia! I swear it on my life!”

“How very interesting, Ki’Dar. Even  _ your own daughter _ has evidence contradictory to that claim.” The interrogating officer tapped a string of keys on a console and Rakelen heard her voice start playing, first quiet and unsure, before it slowly began to grow clear and unwavering.

The immediate look of betrayal showed on her father’s face. 

“It’s fake! She--she never would have, you coerced her, you--you’ve kidnapped my daughter haven’t you?!”

The interrogator slowly slid forward a lever, a sadistic look in his eyes shining. Rakelen’s father began to convulse and scream as the platform he laid on shocked him violently.

“It’s such a shame that a prominent gul such as you could ever bring yourself to such a dismal display of shallow denial.”

Rakelen grabbed Korinas’s sleeve tightly.

“Please,” she begged. “Please make them stop, please!” She wanted so badly to tell the real truth, that she lied, that none of this was true, but something inside told that even if she did, Korinas wouldn’t believe her and she’d be punished too alongside her father.

“Rakelen, I know this is extremely difficult for you to understand. The Order previously had no convincing evidence that your father was secretly aiding the Maquis. Your testimony helped to solidify our suspicions, our suspicions that your father could be helping to undermine us. It’s only natural that you feel responsible for your father’s current pain, but know this: he is an enemy of the State, he betrayed you. You are his victim. Your former home is his victim. Cardassia is his victim. _ Your sister is his victim. _ And you, Rakelen, you are doing your duty.”

_ Duty _ . It was such a simple word in itself, but it was more than a simple act of patriotism. There was no such word in Kardasi to describe patriotism--instead, all life was dedicated to the worship of the State. It was impossible to define it in a single word. An outsider to Cardassian society might view it as an uncomplicated backwards ideology, but to a true Cardassian, there was no greater cause.

Rakelen silently nodded and lowered her head. Her father’s cries still hung in the air, one after another. Duty to Cardassia, however false as it would be, was most important. And one man’s suffering was a price to pay. And for a moment, Rakelen could feel herself believing her lies.

She continued watching her father’s agony until Korinas had finally taken her out of the room, back to the garden.

“What’s going to happen to my father?” she asked Korinas.

Korinas gave a slight shrug. 

“He’ll be tried and convicted in a court of law. He’ll be sentenced to death, naturally.”

Rakelen’s heart began to pound faster than before. The garden suddenly looked much less pleasant than it did before. It might have been outwardly beautiful, but it was artificial and fragile, fragile like the relationship from Rakelen to her family.

“Death? But he’s my father! At least give him some mercy!”

“And why should he deserve that?”

“He can’t die! He just can’t! I love him! E-even if he’s done terrible things!” Rakelen’s voice began to break. “Please! Please, Korinas!” She knew this was hopeless. She’d gone too far. It was over...

At the pathetic appeal, Korinas lowered her eyes. There wasn’t the immediate denial that Rakelen was expecting.

“Perhaps,” Korinas said after several moments, “there may be a chance for leniency. I’ll speak to the chief archon who’ll oversee the proceedings.” 

Had she seen through the lies? Or perhaps did she see something else in her? Rakelen wanted to ask why the sudden change in heart, but before she could, Korinas placed her hand onto Rakelen’s arm.

“There’s no more reason for you to stay in this compound anymore. You’ll be sent to live with your uncle and aunt. They have proven to be innocent in your father’s affairs.”

Rakelen already knew that was impossible. Her uncle and aunt would keep their distance from her. Suffice it to say, they would be afraid of her. Rakelen knew exactly why; she could easily lie about them too, spread false rumours, and condemn them to torture.

Father’s screams were still fresh in her mind. He could easily already be dead, tortured by those agents of the Order. Guilt tore Rakelen apart on the inside.

_ Actions have their consequences, don’t they, Rakelen? _

“I can’t go back.”

“Rakelen, you’re beginning to test my patience. Where else do you have?” Korinas squinted down at her. 

_ It could be a chance to get back at Okon, a chance for vengeance. He deserved to pay for what he’s done, doesn’t he? It’s part of the sacrifice she knew she had to make. _

“I want to join the Obsidian Order.”

The woman’s glare seemed to pierce Rakelen’s flimsy person. If it were possible to be even more vulnerable and scared, she couldn’t possibly imagine what that would feel like.

“Rakelen, that’s a large leap to take.” 

“Not too large a step! There’s no cause more honorable to Cardassia itself! I’m ready to serve, I’m ready to make...I’m ready to make the never-ending sacrifice.”

Korinas smiled. She looked almost amused.

“Come with me,” she said. “Have you ever heard of Bamarren?”


End file.
